


but you have nothing left to give

by detectivemeer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivemeer/pseuds/detectivemeer





	but you have nothing left to give

first, you give him your heart. sand under your fingernails, his mouth is covered in bubblegum. he introduces himself with a puffed out chest, gummy smile. you look at the gaps of his missing teeth, the confidence in his bright face, his tapping, jittery feet. you smile back.  
  
the hospital is lollipops and nurse jennings letting you guess what big words mean while she fills out reports. it's your mom's warm hands ruffling your hair, covering your giggling face with kisses when you pull out your A+ spelling test. you give him your shoulder here, when suddenly everything is quiet and careful. he picks at the thread of his jeans until it threatens to unravel at his knee. you try to think of your mom instead of his in the hospital bed and shudder, wrap a slow arm around him until his face screws up and he hides his sobs in your sleeve.  
  
he wants your feet for adventures and your hands for misadventures that leave you breathless with laughter, trying to look remorseful as your science teacher yells about the mess. by this time, you are glad to give. he has your ears at one in the morning, talking about corn dogs and spaceships and how you should buy an apartment together in college and raise a pet ferret. your hip is his to glue to, your every sense smells, tastes, sees what he does, when he does. you don't notice the incisions anymore. you've swapped pieces of yourselves so often you can't remember if you have the scar on your elbow from when it got pinched in a door trying to sneak into the community pool in december, or he does.   
  
the asthma is yours but your inhaler sits in his pocket. his fists are quicker to fly but almost always on your behalf. your smile is a tuned guitar string he strums, your body is inside out and jigsaw--he could peel you apart and put you back together again without noticing.   
  
you've sliced and diced your body into easy, on the go pieces for him to put in his pocket. that's friendship, isn't it? you know it is. he's your best friend, after all. what's a friend worth, what're you worth if you're not willing to donate your time and palms and marrow to the cause of his affection? who doesn't filet themselves for friendship? you serve yourself up to everyone you love, it's only fair. they deserve all of you, everything you can give.  
  
somewhere, something went wrong. perhaps you've stretched yourself too far, gone and spoiled your soul while trying to ration it to everyone around you. maybe he got the short end of the stick, maybe you forgot to save him your skull or wrist bone (but you thought you'd given them both, already, fourteen when he slipped backwards out of your window and stole your breath in the fall--you cradled his broken wrist against your chest and rested your forehead against his, grinning against the tears, skin tingling with relief)  
  
you're not sure. all you know is one day you must have forgotten to pick apart your ribs and package them prettily for him, because now   
  
he looks at you and asks for more.


End file.
